A shot at redemption
by LineChokor
Summary: A car accident. It was a car accident that brought them together. She knew about him, but he did not. She was trying to redeem herself, but she didn't have in mind to fall in love with him, nor him loving her back. It all started with a loss, but will it end with gain? Catoniss, hints of Peeniss and Katniss x Finnick. AU. Rated T. Mild swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! This is a new story that I couldn't help but write. **

**I know what you're thinking… How could I start a new story when I have 3 others? Well, I also have no idea, but bear with me! I got the idea first time I watched "Another Earth" and the other day, I saw a glimpse of it on TV, so I started writing this..**

**I hope you like it, but I gotta warn you, this isn't my best work.**

**Oh, and also, don't comment on the songs, I was listening to my playlist which was on shuffle, and those two songs just played after each other and I thought they fit perfectly… I dunno...**

**Enjoy reading, and review. ****J**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games series, nor "Love The Way You Lie (Part 2)" by Eminem, nor "We Are Young" by Fun.**

I tilt my head backwards as I feel the burning taste of tequila running down my throat. This is probably my seventh shot, and I am incredibly wasted. I have lost my good sense of judgment and take whatever my friends shove in my way.

This was the final day of school before summer vacation. I won't have to stay up all night studying trying to get a scholarship. No more waking up at six stinking a.m., no more boring classes, no more stinking cafeteria food. Just me and my friends Rue, Madge, Annie, Finnick and Gale and my boyfriend Peeta spending the summer together. Next year, we're seniors, but now, we're just juniors who got off the hook! We're partying hard.

The party is at Glimmer Anderson's place. She's the rich girl at school, and you'd expect her to be all high and snobby because of the money she has, or because of the fact that her parents are politicians, but she's pretty cool.

I am now dancing with Peeta on the dancing floor (which isn't exactly a dance floor, just a room with the furniture pulled back to clear the way), head swigging wildly from side to side, hands on thrown on his neck, back pressed firmly against his chest, hips swaying to the rhythm of the music. His hot breath is ragged against my neck. I don't care about anything right now. I am just drunk and want to be alone with the love of my life.

But that doesn't happen because Peeta soon leaves me to hang out with his guy friends, talking about some football game. Amazing how even when they're trashed, they still find a way to engage in a conversation about sports. Typical male, whether drunk or sober.

My red plastic cup is empty, the sight of it unappealing to me without the much needed alcohol in it. I make my way through the huge crowd of teens to the massive kitchen, getting lost along the way, and grabbing the first bottle of alcohol in sight. Hmm, rum. Not my favorite but it will do. I open a can of Coke and pour it in the cup until it's half full. I try opening the rum bottle with my hands, but it's sealed. So I put the top of it in my mouth, and use my teeth to open it. After much pulling, I fill the cup with rum and gently shake it.

No one is in sight, Peeta is probably still with his friends, Madge and Gale might be in a room, just like Finnick and Annie, Rue and Thresh are on the dance floor, having a moment, so I just sit on the couch in the far corner, close my eyes, and drum my fingers on my thigh along with the blasting music. Love the way you lie is playing. I listen to the sound of the drums and guitar playing, the relaxed but yet pained sound of Rihanna singing, it's such a touching song.

_On the first page, of a story, the future seems so bright_

_Then this thing turned out so evil, I don't know why I'm still surprised_

_Even angels have their wicked schemes, but you take that to new extremes_

_But you'll always be my hero, even though you've lost your mind_

I didn't know I was humming along until a voice whispers in my ear "Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours." I open my eyes, expecting to see Peeta's baby blue eyes looking into mine, but I am met with green ones instead. Gloss Richards.

"No." I deadpanned, disgusted. I close my eyes again, trying to focus on the words of the song, but his voice cuts me off every time.

"How about in bed? Do you think that I can hear your voice while you're screaming my name?" he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, his breath smells of alcohol.

"You're revolting. Not ever, Gloss. Not even in your dreams." I say and get up and walk away from him. I shiver just at the thought of me and him in the same bed. No. Just no. Peeta is the only one that I would ever have sex with.

Wandering in the halls, I start daydreaming about Peeta, the first time we did it, his smell, the sound of his voice moaning my name and talking dirty to me. Just _him_.

My thoughts are cut short when I walk by a door. Apparently, a couple is having sex. The girl's moans are too high and pitched that it hurts my ears. She's screaming someone's name. I decide to let them have some privacy and keep going, but the name that's being screamed is what stops me.

Peeta.

_Peeta._

_Peeta!_

Impossible! My ears must be deceiving me. There's no way.

I abruptly open the door, to find Peeta, my boyfriend, with Cashmere Leigh, both topless, in a compromising situation. The cup slips from my grasp, and both of them turn around, eyes widening. I can't believe this. I must be dreaming. This is not happening. Peeta is not shirtless, pants hanging low on his hips, on top of the school's slut. They were not having sex.

_They were. _My mind shouts at me. _Get out of here. _

I stomp out of the room, but not before throwing Peeta's promise ring that he happened to give the same day, at him.

_Try to touch me so I can scream at you not to touch me_

_Run out of the room and I'll follow you like a lost poppy_

_Baby without you I'm nothing _

That's the verse that the rapper is practically screaming. It makes my ears bleed, from the intensity of it, the truth and the irony.

Peeta is chasing after me in the house, but I am faster without my heels. I kicked them off when I started running away from him. But no matter how fast I am, or how stubborn I am and not willing to stop, he catches up with me.

"Katniss wait!" he screams even though he's right behind me, gripping my arm, effectively stopping me. I can't look at him. This is not the face of an angel, this is the face of a cheater, and if there's something I can't tolerate, it's cheating.

"Don't touch me!" I shout at him, gaining the attention of some people close to us. He takes his hand back like I just tasered him, his face covered with shock. I never yell at him, but now, I have a reason. I found my boyfriend cheating on me.

I run again, making my way to my car outside, across the lawn, aware of Peeta following me, desperately trying to get me to listen, pleading. No, I won't listen to him. I start the engine, but Peeta's hand effectively stops me by reaching out and taking the key out of the ignition.

"Katniss please listen to me." He begs.

"No Peeta." I say, trying to sound strong. I can't show him any hurt. How ironic, he's the one I always reveal my feelings and emotions to, and now, I'm hiding them from him. "Just me go. Let us go." My voice cracks a bit at the end. It's hard to end our three year relationship like this. I never thought of us ever stop being, well, us. A couple. But I also never thought that Peeta would deceive me and sleep with someone else.

How naïve I was. I believed his every word, his every adoring look, his every touch. I loved them all. I loved him. _I loved him. _I thought he loved me back. How foolish.

"Katniss please. I am nothing without you. I love you." He tries again. I let out a dark laugh at him. He loves me?

"Who loves doesn't cheat." I say, venom seeping through every word. He looks down ashamed. That's the least he can do? Look ashamed? That's not good enough. "Go away, Peeta. Get back. Cashmere is probably waiting." I spit out, voice extremely serious, heart hard as steel, looking ahead. He takes in a breath, opens his mouth to say something but I'm gone, speeding away from the house, from him, from the mistakes, from the memories.

I drive around aimlessly. I just want to get out of here, I don't care where I end up.

The silence is suffocating. I can't handle it. It's challenging me to face my own thoughts. Something that I don't want to do. I turn on the radio and "We are young" fills the car.

How humorous, yet contradicting my situation.

_My friends are in the bathroom, getting higher than the empire state._

No, my friends are nowhere to be found, getting drunk instead of high.

_My lover, she's waiting for me._

No, my lover is actually with another girl right now, probably already forgetting about me.

_My seat's been taken by sunglasses, asking about a scarf. _

No, my place has been taken by a blonde bimbo, most likely asking for a second round.

_No, I know that I'm not, all that you got._

Yes, I am not.

_I guess that I, just thought, maybe we could find new ways to fall apart._

It's true. We have been fighting a lot in these last couple of weeks. We are drifting apart.

God, some verses of this song describes me perfectly! I laugh. I laugh like there's no tomorrow. I laugh like a maniac. The laughs soon die out and turn into cries. Tears prickle my eyes, blurring my vision.

I'm driving blindly, but it's hard to miss the bright light coming my way.

_Collision._

_Crash._

_Glass shattering. _

_Noise._

_Screams. _

_Black spots everywhere._

I close and open my eyes fast, trying to focus, get out of the car. Move. Anything!

My head hurts. I lift it to see a flood of blood on my hands. My lips quiver as my hand traces my face to find a huge gash on my forehead. I want to let a shriek, but I can't. I am paralyzed with fear, because I just saw another toppled vehicle. The hood is bent in the middle, dents covering it, tires on the road. Needless to say, the car is destroyed.

But what catches my eye is that the passenger seat is in the middle of the road. A kid's lifeless body is laying on the ground next to the car.

I frantically look around, trying to remember if he was there before the crash. I couldn't have… No way. It's impossible.

I could not have killed this kid!

**Okay, this is my first AU fic, so go easy on me. What do you think about the songs? Do they fit?**

**I am already writing the second chapter. And I am trying to write the next chapter for all my fics, just have a little patience. I am making chapter 9 of Blood Sacrifice especially long because I want Chapter 10 to start the Games (which means this chapter has the scores, the interviews, blah blah blah), I am even writing chapter 5 of Life Of A Victim (which says a lot since I left that story for desperate times) but I guess the last one to be updated is Born To Die, because I am kinda stomped on that one, but it WILL be updated.**

**If anyone wants to chat, PM me. I always like to talk to my readers. **

**If you have any ideas just tell me. **

**And also if you can guess who the little kid and the driver are, you get to have a say in what happens in the story. **

**So please, please, please, review.**

**Lots and lots and lots of love.**

**Line.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again everyone! I am back! Thank you for all of the amazing reviews, the follows and favorites. I really do smile when I check my inbox and find all the e-mails from fanfiction! Mostly, thank you for reading. I am kind of crazy when it comes to writing, I get an idea and I can't help but write it and I need to show it to someone (that someone is you guys**** ). Thank you for hanging on with me and all of my stories. Love you all.**

**To sundragons9: I thought so too, but then it didn't make sense! I mean, why would the sunglasses be asking about a scar. It just made more sense to me.**

**Also, I made a mistake last chapter. I didn't mean Finnick and Annie but Marvel and Marissa, because I used Finnick and Annie here.**

**Okay, thank you everyone for reviewing, and just basically for reading!**

**Enjoy reading…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games series. It all belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

I stumble out of the car, clutching my injured arm, towards the little kid. Shards of glass cut my bare knees as I crouch down next to him. Breath in, breath out. I try to stop the panic from showing when I put my head on his little chest to only find silence.

Silence. No heartbeat. No indicator that there's life brewing inside of this body.

I stand up quickly, hiding my mouth with the palm of my hands. I look around frantically, wanting to see if someone witnessed me killing someone.

Killing.

No, no, no! This is not happening!

I hear a low grunt of pain coming from the car. I totally forgot about the driver. I run unsteadily to the driver's seat to find a blond guy, head down on the wheel, arms at his sides. He's alive, that's for sure –because of the grunt. I reach out with trembling hands to shake him awake, but he's passed out good. I push him back until I see his face. That's when I see how badly injured he is. Cuts and bruises swell on his face, jaw and neck, mall bits of glass in some of his cuts from the broken windshield. Blood smears his shirt and arms from the wounds, and by the faint but yet labored breath, I think he cracked some of his ribs, or worse, punctured a lung.

My god, I have to do something, get some help!

I walk to my car, trailing my now-seemingly broken ankle behind me and grab my phone from my purse. I dial the only number I never thought of calling, ever. 911.

I put the phone against my ear and wait. A female's voice picks up on the first ring.

"911, how can I help you?"

"There's a-a car cr-rash… A k-kid dea-ad in the street and the car's driver is p-passed out, but inj-jured." I stutter out. There's a brief silence on the other line.

"What about the other driver?"

"It's me, and I have a gash on my forehead, my arm hurts, and I think I damaged my ankle." I say.

"Alright, hang on tight. Help is on the way."

"Okay." That is the only word manages to leave my mouth.

I sit on the ground, hug my knees tightly, careful with my arm and ankle, rock back and forth, looking at some point in the distance.

The reality of what I did comes crashing down on me. I am responsible for a little boy's death, a kid who had a long life ahead of him, loving him family, maybe even a perfect life, but I had to come along. And now, I called help, and I am sure that the police will get here and arrest me, if not for killing, then for driving under the influence. And I am under age, so the penance will be worse. What have I gotten myself into?

Sounds of sirens come closer and closer. The once deserted area is now swarming with police officers and paramedics. Some even approach me, but I am lost in the many layers of myself.

Noise. That is all I want to hear. I don't want to be accompanied by the silence that I am not faced with because I am tuning everything and everyone out. Silence leads to thinking, which lead to guilt and uneasiness. I need noise right now. I need a distraction even though I have come to terms with the consequences of my actions.

The snapping of fingers in front of my face is what breaks my toxic haze. Sea green eyes meet mine, and for a second, the playfulness and the calmness in them sooth me.

"Hey," says a smooth voice. When irresponsiveness greets him, the person sits down in front of me, and mimics my position. Before his knees cover up his chest, I catch a glimpse of his name under the small red medical cross on his deep blue shirt – Finnick Odair.

He stares at me for a while and I stare at his shoes in return. I don't know what paramedics usually wear, but I never once imagined that when I encounter one, he'd be wearing sweats and snickers. When I see from the corner of my eye that other people are pulling the little kid up on the stretcher, I avert my gaze to look again into Finnick's eyes, hoping to share the calmness resident there for a second time. But there's none. Shaking my head in disappointment at the false hope, I clench my jaw in pain when Finnick comes closer and grabs my arm.

"Okay, you have to come with me." He tells me gently.

"I can't walk much, I've hurt my ankle." I say. Next, he's behind me, making me stand by my armpits. Once standing, I do what he says and stand on my good leg. He takes my uninjured arm and puts it over his shoulder, snakes his arm around my wait – a helping gesture – and guides me over to the back of the ambulance.

"Sit here." He taps the floor of the ambulance and if I wasn't drunk and in pain, I would have probably refused, so I sit there, my short legs dangling. He hands me a grey blanket since the temperature dropped and I was only wearing a black dress that only goes mid-thigh. My heels are kicked somewhere in my wrecked car. I can't even think what would have happened to my leg if I was still actually wearing them.

Holding my ankle in the air, Finnick wraps it with gauze, after gently rubbing some pain ointment on it.

"Okay, that's all I can do until we get you to the hospital. Let me see your arm." Reaching out, he takes my sore arm with delicate fingers.

"What's your name?" he asks, pressing down two fingers on my forearm.

Wincing, I answer. "Katniss Everdeen."

"Well, Katniss, I bet that your arm isn't broken or fractured since you can actually move it, it only hurts from the impact. But it's going to bruise. A lot. As for that gash on your forehead, we'll stitch over at the hospital since it stopped bleeding." He sits next to me and hands over a bottle of water. "I'm Finnick Odair." He introduces himself, which in return, I nod in recognition. "So what happened?"

Figuring that eventually I have to tell that to many police officers, I might as well start now. "I was at a party, drinking of course, and I bolted."

"Drinking? Are you even of age?" He interrupts.

"No, I'm seventeen. But what else do you expect at a party?!" I ask flatly.

"Wait, you said that you bolted. Why?" he asks.

"I bolted because I found my boyfriend cheating on me. Crying, in my car, I guess I didn't see the car coming towards me in time." I'll elaborate more when explaining that to the cops.

"What an ass." He comments after a few moments of silence, referring to Peeta.

"Yeah, he is." I agree. Normally, I would have disagreed and argued that he was a good guy, but I don't think I ever will after what happened. Besides, this is a normal situation. If I knew what would happen if I went to this party, I wouldn't have went there. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the images popping in my head. Peeta on top of her, the white light, the kid…

"I mean, if I had a girlfriend as attractive as you, I wouldn't cheat. Never." He says, and I stop myself from snorting. Peeta said the exact same thing once, but yet, he did cheat. No one could ever look at him and think that he's a cheater. He looks like an angel sent from heaven above with his blond hair, blue eyes, and slight freckles. I guess looks can be deceiving.

"Yeah, that's what he said." I say, looking straight ahead.

"I was trying to flirt, you know." He looks down, frowning. Even though he was not joking – and I knew that – I can't help but let out a laugh. It's such a ridiculous idea to flirt in the circumstances that I am in right now. And what's even funnier, is that I didn't even know he _was actually flirting_! Peeta always said that I am oblivious to people hitting on me. That was because of my insecurity. I lacked the confidence to believe that I was beautiful. At first, before Peeta and I began dating, my self-esteem was embarrassingly low. I remember, the first few months we dated, that I would sit in my room and cry, think I wasn't good enough for him, that he deserved someone better. I kept thinking that our relationship was all a dream, a beautiful dream that I was about to wake up from. And I did. I woke up the second I heard Cashmere's screams.

But before I could respond, a police officer came our way. "Are you the one who called?" he asks me, once he's near enough.

I take a good look at him; he's not that old, perhaps in his mid-forties, blond hair with graying hair on the sides, steel gray eyes just like mine, few beard hair around his mouth. He's wearing the typical police clothes – minus the hat – black pants with a blue button-up shirt, sleeves going to the elbow with a couple of badges on his chest.

"Yes, I am." I respond, with what I hope would be a steady voice.

"Miss, you need to come with us to the station to present your testimony." I was about to get up when Finnick came to my rescue.

"She can't walk, officer. We need to take her to the hospital first to check on her injuries, and run some tests over." He says.

Looking from me, to my wrapped-up ankle, to Finnick, he slowly nods. "But we're going after you in a bit, sweetheart." He finishes, but makes no move to walk away, still looking back and forth between Finnick and me.

"Leave, Haymitch." Finnick orders him, a scowl etched on his beautiful and chiseled face. Haymitch flashes us a smirk over his shoulder, while walking away.

What was that all about?

I don't read much into it because he's already helping me get into the ambulance. He drives while Annie, an extremely attractive girl paramedic – inspects me. She confirms what Finnick said about my arm, but I am not listening. I'm trying to imagine what's probably waiting for me after. Jail maybe? Parents disowning me? I really can't predict. Everything is plausible at the moments.

Everything's a blur. People come, check me out, take some blood samples, clean and stitch my forehead, then go. No one answers me when I ask if there's something wrong with me, they just tell me to wait for my doctor. I begged them not to call my parents, I needed to tell them my own way, and I still haven't figured out how to do that just yet.

Soon enough, he comes into my hospital room – which really isn't a room, just a small place with a stretcher in the corner and medical supplies scattered around, nice – holding a sheet panel.

"Hello, miss Everdeen. I'm doctor Darius."

"Hello, doctor."

"Well, the good news is that there are no fatal injuries, no internal bleeding, but you do have a broken ankle, you will need a cast. As for your arm, thankfully, it's not fractured, but it will bruise terribly." He explains.

"What about… the others?" I ask. He looks at me with sorrowful and regretful eyes, and in that second I'm not even sure even I want to know anymore. What he says right now could either make me or break me.

"Uhm. I don't know how to say this, but the little kid had minimal chance of living because of what happened. When he hit the ground, he broke his neck, rending him paralyzed from the neck down, then his heart stopped." My throat is thick with tears, but I can't cry just yet, there's still one more person left to ask about. The blond driver.

"What about the driver?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Minor gashes and cuts on his face and neck, two cracked ribs, a bit of blood loss." He recites almost robotically, as if this isn't horrible at all.

I release the tears, they run down along my face, some even enter my mouth while sobbing, their salty taste feeling almost natural to me. I did this. I killed a boy and almost fatally injured a guy.

"What does that mean?" I ask, wiping the tears away, but more replaced them.

"Frankly, I'm not the person who should be answering that." Just when the words left his mouth, the door opened and Haymitch came in.

"Miss Everdeen. Doc." He greeted.

"Hello, officer. Katniss, we ran some tests based on the blood samples we took from you, and we found that the alcohol percentage is way higher than the normal, legal quota." I look down, half ashamed, half embarrassed. It managed to slip my mind that I was actually drunk at the time, I felt sober when I was freaking out!

"How old are you, Katniss?" Haymitch asks.

Still looking down, I still answer with a small "Seventeen."

Sighs come from both of them, effectively making me stare at them questioningly.

"You know what this means, sweetheart. You have to come with me."

"Fine. But can you not use cuffs or anything? I don't want to make a scene." I plead.

"Okay, I won't."

"Officer, can you help her walk out of here? She shouldn't put a lot of pressure on her ankle." Darius says before leaving.

"Sure thing, Doc." He accepts.

"How old are you?" He asks once he's helped me inside the cruiser.

"Seventeen." I answer.

"So young. You have such a bright future in front of you." He shakes his head, sighing before turning on the engine. Lights are getting further and further away from us as we speed down the road towards the station. Haymitch let me sit next to him in the car, not in the back of the cruiser like the criminal I really am.

Once there, he again helps me get into the cell, and regretfully closes it behind it. I just sit there, twisting and untwisting my fingers, passing the time. I am waiting for something, but for what I don't know.

That's when I remember, I am allowed with one phone call. At least, that's the way it happens in movie.

I stumble my way to the front of the cell, using the prison bars for leverage.

"Hey, Haymitch." I call out. Looking up from the paper works on his desk, he raises his eyebrows at me. "Don't I get a phone call or something?"

"Yes, you do." He opens the cell doors, helping me get to the phone attached to the wall next to his desk.

I dial in the familiar number, and wait, hoping to not get turned to the voicemail.

Thankfully, I don't and a gruff voice responds.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad?"

**I seriously would have written more but I wanted to know your opinion first. What do you want to happen next? Tell me, please don't be afraid of telling your opinion.**

**Favorite, follow, review, you know what to do.**

**Lots of love.**

**Line.**


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